Freezer Burn
by Queen Misazaki
Summary: The voices are active once more. Discontinued


**This is a two shot to get back into the swing of writing again. I hope you enjoy it, I worked hard on it.**

**I'm also taking requests again so if you have an interesting plot you'd like me to put a spin on, leave it in the reviews or PM me and I'll get right on it.**

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Fairy tales are utter nonsense generated by the girl with everything to lose and nothing to gain. Girls with hope that bring about folly or boys who believe hero's are always just. Misogyny and a perfection complex beyond that of human obtainment that one strives to achieve, perpetuate these myths. They are simply what they are, tales, yarns, spun around a fire for amusement, not guidelines for proper living. They are lies. And when you wake up, you find the old lady in the shoe never had a dozen kids, Mrs. Clause never married, Cinderella never got her prince, and the Brother's Grim had a cheery outlook on life. So when I say Ryou had hoped for a fairytale life, you can see where I get off calling him an idiot.

Seven years old and so happy and full of life, a simple happiness eagerly filled with love of family and friends that he so offhandedly built in his imagination. Ryou saw the bright side where there was none, and believed in the impossible when it wasn't his problem to deal with. Of course, being seven, he had the unalienable right to believe so until reality catches up with informality and creates a uniformed gentleman. A printer copy of the same person throughout history, forever living the grey, mundane life of the average Joe with ambitions he never intends to follow through with.

However, I digress, the point here is the friends I mentioned built like the fairytales of the first paragraph. Fake. Drawn in by the "creativity" of a boy not meeting social standards. Seven is such an innocent age, no one would suspect the friends he made up would keep with him through life. Unending torment projected by his mind, by his instability, a spiral that continued down into the abyss he wouldn't see the light of the top, stars in daylight.

By age thirteen, he was outcast from his peers. The baby in the crowd of self proclaimed grownups, and if you've ever been thirteen, you'll understand the stupidity of those that age who believe themselves to be "mature, responsible, adults". Even with Ryou's cracked wonderland, he was far more realized than they would ever dream to be. A budding schizophrenic that gave faces to the voices in his head. The screaming from nightmares built up put stress on the whole family to the point where Ryou was abused within his own home, a father who yelled and a mother who cries "What did I do to deserve a lame child", and an older sister who tries to make the best of the situation. The ferocity of how tense the house was went unnoticed by Ryou who had more problems to deal with, the self loathing that came in forms of angry voices that never truly existed, it pushed his family. Mother, sister, and father to the brim until they just could not stomach any more of his stupidity!

His mother committed suicide that year.

Ryou blamed himself, magnified by the voices that whispered in his ear: "she hated you and that's why she died". Healed by the loving touch of a sister who said: "you can't help what she decided". And depressed by a father who abandoned him and Amane, never to be heard from again.

This is the story of a little boy with the blood of many on his hands and the murders of 99 on his conscience. A boy who just craved the taste of ambrosia only to be handed the scum of the earth and every angry regard imaginable. The boy who sought to end the world in the same cruel coldness that had been served to him on a platter, still scarred with freezer burn.

~QM~

September 2, 2012

_Today is my sixteenth birthday, Amane baked a cake but I think it burned. Bakura thinks so too. He said she did it on purpose, but I don't believe that. Amane's nice to me. Touzo says she secretly wants me dead… I don't think that's right either. She's always nice! She bought me a deck of Duel Monster's cards, the designs look so cool. It's a pretty popular game, this kid at my school, Yuugi, he's supposedly the best at it. Maybe if I get good at it, they won't keep me at bay. Generally Yuugi and his friends are nice, but I think they're afraid of me. I understand, Bakura tells me to say mean things to them and Touzo says some pretty nasty things too. Amane says that if they can't see past all that then I should just forget about them. Malik's pretty nice, I think he doesn't mind me so much, but lately he's been acting kinda… like he doesn't want to be near me. There's this new voice that's been coming along more and more. He looks like Malik. I think he needs a name but I don't know what to call him. Mariku? I'll work on it… _

Voices galore interrupted the teen's journaling process. The bickering of grown men thrown back and forth with nothing but childish insults made the entities seem half their age and a third of their wit. With an aggravated sigh, Ryou turned around and faced his demons, in the literal meaning of 'faced'. The pale one was hurling cuss words at the tan one, and the tan one throwing punches with brute force Ryou'd imagined up for someone with rugged looks as his.

They both had pearly white hair, shining in the artificial light emanating from his lamp. The difference between the two being their skin and build. Touzo was thick, muscled and broad shouldered, his voice gruff and scratchy always holding hints of malice for anyone he spoke to. The rude Touzo with his dark skin and perpetual smirk always prompted Ryou to do something violent, if not threaten someone with the same vehemence as a duelist during a tournament. Bakura's demeanor was often more charming, smooth, pale skin and a visage to match Ryou's. He'd been the voice in his head since he was young, and lacking creativity, Ryou gave him a face he so often saw in the mirrors, a self-centred, egotistical move by a young boy who wanted a friend just like him. While Bakura possessed an air of elegance, he wasn't always princely, manipulation in a pretty package with rage to boot. When he wasn't twisting the world to fit his ideals he wished his host to live by, he was initiating fights with a cacophonous roar of "fuck you asshole".

Currently the pale malevolence was tossing every expletive he could possibly create with thin pink lips curled into a frown, fang-like teeth bared at his opponent who didn't seem to care about the insults so much as fighting with Bakura. Instead of a frown, he wore a smirk that dripped sarcasm with every inhale. The less he cared about their spat, the angrier Bakura became until the charismatic Bakura was left with a distasteful appearance.

Ryou didn't care to think about the context of the fight nor any words said in it. Once the two had interrupted him from his train of thought he whipped around and snarled, an action unbecoming of a boy with a baby face such as he.

"Would you two kindly knock it off?! I'm trying to write here!" He snapped, clenching alabaster hands at his sides, the wooden chair's back pressed uncomfortably into his side.

The two beings stopped and looked at their host, silence fell between the two. For a moment it seemed Ryou had gotten his way easily, but upon relax, the two continued from where they left off. In a miniature fit, Ryou screamed, loud and angry. This time they shut up.

"If you two are quite finished with your piss poor conduct, I'd like to get back to recapping my day. Can't the two of you shut the hell up even for my birthday? Do I have to separate you?! Are we really so childish?!" He hissed, standing out of the chair with fists curled and propped on his slender hips. Jeans hung loosely around his waste, the belt at an angle, his sister always bought clothes that were larger than him.

With a cough, Bakura returned to his normal self and adjusted his expression to wear a winning smile and half lidded eyes; ultimately a look of seduction that appealed to Ryou's apparent narcissism.

"I apologize, host, happy birthday." He slinked close, but the glare hadn't left Ryou, he'd have to try harder to please him. A happy Ryou was easier to bend than an angry Ryou. "You may get back to writing, we were simply having a debate over—"

"Bullshit." Ryou barked. "You two were screaming at the top of your lungs! I swear I can't get a thought in edgewise!"

Slowly losing the will to calmly argue with Ryou, Bakura scowled. "Like your thoughts matter anyway."

"Hey!"

"Now, Bakura," Touzo spoke finally. "Without his thoughts you wouldn't exist."

"I hate when you're right…" Bakura muttered, his arms folded across his chest.

From somewhere in the back of Ryou's head was a laugh, it felt like an itch in his brain that stayed small and quiet. Whatever Mariku was getting up to, he refused to pay the trio a visit. Ryou still knew next to nothing about Mariku, he'd only seen him once or twice, but the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to leer at everything while saying little or nothing was the equivalent to the boogieman. Intimidating and exceptionally terrifying, he sent shivers down Ryou's back with one look of those rich violet eyes, and that laugh was one Ryou didn't wish to witness again. Mariku was truly his inner demon.

_Flashes of white walls and needles invaded Ryou's vision as he slept, the nightmares building with brighter and brighter flashed and he woke, a scream ripping from his throat._

School wasn't better, melancholy students in straight lines learning the same useless facts only continuing to prove the point that everyone was created equal, undeviating from the perfect design created by media and the idiots in charge who think that learning to play the recorder was more valuable than learning how to do taxes.

Domino High was just another school, swimming in hormones, teen drama, home abuse, all dumped into one large pot and mixed together, masquerading as 'normality' trying to match the stereotypes given to them by society as they haven't figured out their places in life yet. The hallways adorned with shouts of "YOLO" and "SWAG" as if they were the battle cries to victory, if victory were an early grave then surely they'd achieved this greatness. In reality the whispers of drugs and booze were as normal as any other school, the teaching of abstinence only countered by the passing out of condoms and talk of other contraception methods. And not one of those teens admitting they've never seen the genitals of the opposite sex, only pretending under the façade that they are the height of high school society. They believed the lies they were fed. That teen's are good for nothing trouble makers with innocent faces. Old enough for responsibility, not old enough to be treated as adults. Ryou thought that was bullshit. As he walked through the halls, hearing the conversations of "Oh my god, Denise, did you see what Taylor was wearing?!" The ramblings of fools who never had to fight to keep their parents love, those who had cars fall into their laps as easy presents, and those with money… then there were those less fortunate, some of them with the marks of internal battle on their arms and some on pills designed to make them think normally, to act normally, to hide the tears threatening to spill from the brim. Ryou saw none of those kids loitering in the hallways with the peppy kids that he felt didn't deserve their socialite lives amongst party goers. Half of them one fornication away from an STD or an 'unplanned surprise'. The walls of the school littered with "watch your GPA" posters and "love everyone equally".

_Equal except for the crazy ones… _Ryou thought bitterly.

"Oh, calm yourself, Ryou." Bakura chimed. "It's not like they could possibly understand what that's like for you. To be such a misfit… you truly are an abomination." His laughter echoed in Ryou's head. Promptly, the boy covered his ears, his hazelnut eyes screwed shut and his teeth grit.

_Shut up!_ He screamed, of course his odd silent look and lips moving to words only said in his mind got him odd looks, but a lot just ignored him. A few began whispering.

"_The freak's at it again."_

"_He just does it for attention."_

"_Ha… maybe if we're lucky he'll start screaming at himself again."_

The mockery built up and Ryou was seeing red, with Bakura's laughter now joined with Touzo, he ran off to the bathroom and locked himself in a stall. It smelled of shit in there, but is that such a surprise? Sometimes he wished the world saw the way he did. They wouldn't understand unless they saw it too.

Once the bathroom became silent he exited his stall and splashed water on his face. It smelled of sulfur and wasn't as cold as he wished it was. He waited until even his voices laughter had subsided before heading to the exit of the bathroom. As his trembling hand met the cold metal panel of the door, it swung open and in walked two seniors with attitude that oozed of stupidity and incompetence. The kind of people who made it to senior year by the skin of their teeth, barely a D average to their names.

"Isn't that the fucking freak from the sophomore year?" A brunette asked.

"I'd say so, Jay," The blonde spoke, a dangerous simper upon chapped lips.

With a flash of fear, Ryou took a step back. The two currently posed no threat other than being intimidating and suspicious with their grins.

Jay stepped up, snagging Ryou by the collar of his blue uniform. "We don't take kindly to freaks in our bathroom, do we Peter?"

Peter only chuckled, knuckles cracking. They seemed to be looking for trouble, scouting out some shrimpy looking kid to lay waste upon, like a nervous twitch, a compulsion. Proof of masculinity often meant the little man went home with bruises.

Jay shoved Ryou, letting his collar free, with a loud crack he hit the wall, tiled in blue.

With a wince, Ryou stood upright once more. He really just wanted to get to class but if it was a quarrel they sought…

Peter swung back his fist, a thuggish swoosh missed Ryou's head with at least a foot between them. Without a reason to fight, they were sloppy, unprepared for swift movements. Sometimes being smaller was a blessing, especially if used correctly. However, Ryou wouldn't leave unscathed, the two gargantuan boys created an effective wall of human meat that was better suited for being a paperweight than functioning members of society. So when Peter got ahold of Ryou, Jay showed no mercy, fists flew and Ryou took it noiselessly, the less satisfaction he gave them, the better. It bored them quickly that Ryou refused to beg for mercy, and with their vicious ways not satiated, they moved on elsewhere to pick on some poor girl with an eating disorder. The impact made Ryou cringe in pain, and he slumped against the wall, leaning on it like life support.

"Well aren't you just the weakest fucker ever?" Mariku's voice broke the quiet panting the host uttered, his lips split.

"Shut up…" He didn't bother to think it, he was too tired to care if there was someone who could hear.

"Pathetic… can't even throw a punch. What kind of man do you consider yourself?" His quiet chuckle seemed to fill the room, Ryou had yet to see the voices manifestation during this exchange.

"I'm fine you asshole… what would it prove to be violent?" Ryou grumbled.

Finally, Mariku appeared, glowing with his smugness. "Maybe it'd teach everyone to leave you the hell alone?"

"I thought I told you to shut up—"

"You know I'm right!" He trilled.

"It's not the way I want to do things…"

"That's a lie, you pray that they all die, don't deny yourself, I am you, I know all your desires, no matter how dark and hidden you think they are."

"Shut up!"

"You'd give anything to see these fuckers drown in their own blood."

"I would not!"

Ryou didn't even hear the door open, Malik standing in the threshold with a worried look over his features.

"Ryou-?" Malik spoke up.

"I said shut up!" With his roar, Ryou reared back and threw a punch at Malik, hitting him square in the jaw, mistaking him for Mariku in a split second of pure and utter ire. There was a thundering crack and Ryou froze, watching Malik hit the floor. He couldn't breathe, what had he done? Why did he do that?! And what's worse… why did it make him feel powerful? How did he enjoy that?

"What the hell?!" Malik gasped, his lip split in a near mirror of how Ryou's was.

"Oh… fuck… Malik I'm so sorry, I…" Ryou sputtered, searching for an explanation that didn't make him seem more insane than he already was.

As if to make matters worse, a few other friends of Malik's followed him in after his outcry. A few famous faces popped up, Yuugi Mutou, Jounochi Katsuya, and Hiroto Honda to name a few.

Jounochi was the first to speak.

"What the hell was that? Don't you got any decency, Ryou, or are you really just fucking crazy?" Jou barked.

"Jounochi… maybe you shouldn't be so harsh, you know—" Yuugi tried.

"Nah, fuck that guy, I knew he had problems but fuck what the hell is he doing going around hitting people who care about him?!"

Malik cared? Since when did anyone… he'd blown it. One chance at finally having what little he craved out of life. Friends. And he'd messed it up.

"_Are you going to let him talk to you like that?" _Mariku whispered, his voice like smoke.

The two taller boys looked at him in disapproval, it made Ryou angry. Why did they care that Malik got hit, when Ryou fought off rude comments, gestures, and actions every day? For a split second he regretted his though when Yuugi gave him an apologetic look before the door swung closed.

"_Make them pay. Make them all pay. They never helped you like that… why is Malik so special?"_

Why was he so special?!

_You deserve way more than that piece of shit._

He did… didn't he?

The more his mind went into the depths of despair and hate, the angrier he became and the voices chimed in more and more. Chanting plans and suggesting things to gather attention to himself, while all the revenge thoughts swirled, what Ryou really craved was for someone to help him. To rid him of his voices.

_You can't get rid of us now, Ryou. _Their voices mixed, an ominous tone created. _We are you._

The hot anger trailed through the rest of the day, his walk home wasn't much better. The neighbours pulled their children away and some moved inside, other's ignored him, which was what he preferred from the strangers in his community. Upon entering the home, Amane welcomed him happily, taking care to smile brightly and take his bag from him.

"How was your day?" She asked, smiling.

"Same as usual." His smile wasn't nearly as open and joyful as hers.

"Aw, well I'm sure things will turn up in your favour soon!"

"I'm sure of it too." Of course the destructive thoughts his voices had unearthed created in him such a violent fantasy that he would indeed get his way, but not in any way he'd thought he'd be doing it.

He snuck off to the basement, the cold, dark place with the flickering light bulb that one frequently associated with the monster under the bed, when in actuality, the monsters were people, and they walked about in broad daylight.

In the corner of this large base for their house was a small cabinet, by small, width-wise it wasn't large, height was rather tall, up to the ceiling. Cobwebs strewn along the sides, it hadn't been opened since his father had been home, before he up and left them. He opened it, trinkets from a life he once knew littered its inner shelving, one item after another caused pain by nostalgia, especially one little pistol up on the top shelf. The very one his mother had used to off herself. Carefully, lifting the weapon off it's place, the cold metal felt right in his hands, and he carried it upstairs and placed it in his backpack while his sister was off cooking dinner.

He'd show them… he'd make them regret the day they ever left him to fend for himself. The fairy tale was false, a charmed life would never exist, only blood, pain, and harsh veracity.


End file.
